Mother Nature sure has been fired up this week.
It started in our own backyard. Flames licking at million dollar homes along the Tukituki River.
It was harrowing for those whose property was at risk and absolutely devastating for the family that was left homeless. We were lucky no life was lost.
But as our fires were being brought under control, flames were starting to leap in the long dry grass of Christchurch's Port Hills.
On Monday afternoon I could see the smoke drifting from the Waimarama hills as I called my sister in Christchurch, who said smoke was hanging densely in the air there too.
It was shocking to hear that a helicopter pilot had been killed while trying to bring the fire under control. I simply didn't think it could get any worse.
Then, on Wednesday, the fire seemed to rear its head with more vigour.
I started reading about places being evacuated that I had fond memories of.
As a kid, I'd clamber over the rocks at Victoria Park.
I went to friend's birthday parties at Westmorland and I'd walk up Dyers Pass Rd on balmy summer evenings.
I listened as people called Newstalk ZB speaking about the smoke and the rubber-neckers clogging up Sparks Rd.
Even though Hawke's Bay is now my home I longed for my old home, the one that's been rocked by far too many earthquakes and now ravaged by fire.
Christchurch has had a rough ride.
Cantabrians are tough and will get through this but come on Mother Nature give them a break.